I made some additions to this chapter, so if you read this again, you'll see a little bit of extra dialogue. Also, I deleted my other story permanently. Don't ask me to restore it back to its original version. I won't. I might make a remake one day, not sure.


Chapter 8

At 8 pm I was already on my way to Stan Marsh's house. I had to hurry, it was getting darker, and the air was getting cooler and thinner. There was a limited amount of sunlight, due to being Spring. I knew where Stan lived because I went to his house one time to write a report on great white sharks in first grade. The house I knew that was Stan's was the same color as it has always been. It's a dark, sickly green color, and the structure and layout is akin to most other houses. It's a middle-class two-story house with a single garage. I knew this was it. Through the front window I could see Stan and Wendy on the couch at the TV. I'm not sure why they were still dressed in their fighting outfits. I'm not particularly interested in what they are watching (if they are even watching TV at all). I'm only here for one job - to get the Stick.

I know that going directly through the front door would be suicide. As I went to open the garage, it opened by itself, likely remotely from the inside. Seeing and hearing that, I immediately dropped into Prowl via cat form. As the garage opened, a sickly red-brown sedan backed out of the garage. I lept to the left to avoid being run over. As the car backed out, I could see Stan's parents and a brown-haired girl in the car, presumably Stan's sister. Perfect timing for Stan's parents to leave. That means that I would only have to contend with two people, instead of five. The garage began to close, probably remotely. While stealthed, I quickly jumped in, and in the nick of time, it closed.

I sighed with relief. Finding the door that leads to the main house structure, I, slowly and quietly as I could, nudged the door open with my snout. The door didn't creak, thankfully, and as I entered, I used my front-left paw to guide the door to close as quietly as possible. I could hear Stan and Wendy, but I couldn't hear the TV, so I'm assuming they aren't actually watching TV, but are just at the TV.

"I know I messed up in the past few weeks," Stan said.

"Stan, please," Wendy interrupted, "I want to help you, I really care about you, I really just you were less...you know."

I heard footsteps and some rustling. "Deceitful? A - a liar? Or..." Stan lost his wording, and I heard his statement in a different part of the house now.

"Well you've changed, and not for the better, I feel like we're separating again. Like when the gluten disaster happened, or when you were more focused on 'Cock Magic' than my volleyball games." Wendy sounded more frustrated. This is very, very awkward to listen to, me being a third-person spectator and having no relationship with either party. Like Ray, I might have degenerated myself into a dirty eavesdropper - an asshole, per se. Still in stealth, I snuck into the living room, only to find Stan and Wendy no longer at the couch in front of the TV.

I heard Stan's voice behind me, the kitchen. "Both of those occasions, I was worried about looking like an idiot in front of my friends." I turned around to see Stan and Wendy at the kitchen.

"Like that time you tried to fit in by singing High School Musical songs and got jealous when you thought Bridon Guermo tried to steal me away." Wendy's voice was somewhat threatening. Or maybe that's just me with my cynicism. Part of me wanted to stay and listen and the other part wanted me to just get the Stick and get going. But the curious side of me took over. With that predicament, I actually do remember alot of the kids constantly breaking out into singing that week. Bridon was the male leader and all the girls were swooning over him. That was the most obnoxious week in my life and I myself was tempted to punch Bridon in the face because he was just that annoying, so condolences to Stan there. "For a guy who gets jealous, you don't seem interested in ever wanting to hang out with me."

"It's because I'm worried of looking like an idiot!" The emotional fear in Stan's eyes was so obvious even a sociopath could detect it. Wendy looked like she was going to say something, but Stan quickly stepped in. "Don't tell me you're right. You're right. I don't want to embarrass myself. Everytime I vomit, I feel like I want to kill myself."

I expected Wendy to throw another insult about Stan's needs of positive attention, maybe it's because of those TV shows I've seen where the wife/girlfriend seems all high-and-mighty while the husband/boyfriend is akin to a deadbeat whenever relationship discussions happen, and the guy seems to be the one with flaws. But this conversation went down a path I did not foresee, and that thought came to me the moment Wendy opened her mouth. "You and I...we're both the same." Wendy pulled a chair from the dining table and sat down. "Sit," Wendy commanded. Stan did as told.

I snuck closer to the two. Not too close, or they will see light bend around my body, and I will be detected instantly. I sat in the corner, listening intently. "We've been dating for how long?" Wendy asked.

"Beginning of 3rd grade, I think," Stan replied, "but we broke up for about a month or so." I remember that, but only because everyone was furiously gossiping about it during class.

"Irregardless, there's something you should know about me." Irregardless isn't even a real word, I think, odd for Wendy to say that. "I'm like you, I get jealous when you like other girls."

Stan chuckled. "Oh comeon, Wendy, I doubt Bebe's boobs situation was any worse than the High School Musical fad. Or when I was jealous when you were paired with Kyle during that egg project."

"Wait, you told me you 'didn't give two shits about what I think'." Wendy raised an eyebrow.

"Well I was wrong," Stan replied, "I was jealous, but I tried to be all cool and stuff."

"Oh. I get it. Well I wasn't referring to any that," Wendy countered.

"Oh..." Stan rubbed his chin. "What were you referring to then?

Wendy sighed. "Remember back in 3rd grade, that substitute teacher? Some young woman with black hair?"

"Oh Ms. Ellen?" Stan shrugged. "I've always wondered what happened after those Arabs took her. I haven't heard from her again since."

"Well, I may have had something to do with it," Wendy said slowly. Stan narrowed his eyes Wendy, as if to have Wendy explain. She sighed. "I have a problem. I'm really clingy, possibly more so than you are. I'm sensitive about my own looks, as demonstrated back with Bebe's boobs. When you were swooning all over Ms. Ellen, I thought I lost you. I dressed like a whore, but that didn't help. So I thought of doing one thing."

"That is..." Stan said this knowingly. I don't know any of this, having not been in their 3rd grade class. But this is pretty juicy.

"I was the one who was responsible for the Arabs. She...was shot into the sun." I could see the tears come out of Wendy.

Holy shit. She's basically implying that she was responsible for the evaporation a substitute teacher. I can feel for Wendy's devotion to her relationship with Stan. And I thought I was an asshole, but this...this is some next level shit. And I couldn't believe a "perfect" girl like her could have the capacity of committing murder. I could tell the authorities, but Wendy and Stan will just deny everything, so no point. If I gossip about it, they'll both come after me, and I too might be inevitably shot into the sun. But damn, this is crazy. I need to keep this as a reminder, a fair warning - to never fuck with Stan or Wendy. Never again.

"H-h-holy shit!" Stan's back was towards me, but I could hear the horror from his voice. Anyone can, really.

Wendy started crying. "I know what you're thinking Stan. I'm a crazy bitch. But I did it all for you!"

Listening to all this felt awkward and fluffy. I hate that feeling. Stan exhaled. "I'm not as good as I say I am. Do you remember Trent Boyette?"

"Barely..." Wendy rubbed her chin. "Preschool right?" When Stan nodded, Wendy continued. "He was kinda an asshole. That's all I can really say. Why?"

"Remember when the classroom caught on fire and Miss Claridge was nearly burnt to death?" Stan asked.

Wendy shrugged. "I do. I always thought Trent did that," Oh fuck no. I see where this is going. I don't know Miss Claridge myself, but this is going to be repulsive to hear.

"Well technically Trent did start the fire," Stan said, "but it was my friends' ideas. Me, Kyle, Kenny, and Cartman."

"I think I know where this is going..." Wendy said.

"We tried to play fireman, and we thought we could put out the fire," Stan said, "so we had Trent start he fire."

"...do I want to know what 'Fireman' is?" Wendy asked. She had a knowing, smug look on her face. I don't think I want to know what that is.

"Well it's when we start a fire and guys pee on it." Stan replied. I regret listening. "But you know, that failed and she was nearly burnt to death."

"You framed Trent for that?" Wendy asked.

"Yeah," Stan continued, "then Trent came back and tried to kill us a few months ago, remember that?"

"Yeah," Wendy replied, "and let me guess: you framed Trent again?"

"Yeah," Stan replied. "I...I guess we really deserve each other." Damn right you do.

"Yeah," Wendy replied, "well, it's not much better than getting a substitute teacher shot into the sun, I'll admit."

"Wendy," Stan said, "I'm - I'm glad we had this talk actually. It felt really great just having small talks like this. Even if this kind of talk is uh...horrifying. At best. No offense or anything, but we shouldn't tell anyone about this."

Wendy beamed. "Not a word, Stan. And playing Dungeons and Dragons with you is fun, even if it's nerdy." Stan laughed nervously. "You, I've been wondering why I have Paladin powers." Yeah Wendy, why do you have paladin powers? Gee, I wonder...

Alright, enough with this nonsense. I came here for one reason: to get the Stick. As I snuck away from the kitchen and headed up the stairs, I could hear footsteps, and the TV turn on.

"Hello, Terrance, I am the doctor. Let me check inside your asshole."

Hm, didn't know Wendy watched Terrance and Phillip too, I knew Stan did. The show's alright. Funny sometimes, other times mediocre. In the upstairs hallway, there were four doors on the side and one at the end of the hall. I took the first door to the right, and immediately came into a bedroom. Going out of prowl and back to human form, I closed the door quietly and turned on the lights. There was a single bed by the window. There was a closet to my left. To my right was a desk, by the right wall were drawers, and next to me on the right was a chest. This was Stan's bedroom.

I checked the chest first. Nothing but junk. I went over to the drawers. I opened the top one first, and the Stick was on top of some underwear. Perfect. But my ears perked as I hood footsteps getting louder and louder. Shit. I quickly took the Stick, stuffed it into my trenchcoat, closed the drawer, opened the closet, and stuffed myself in. Just in the nick of time too, as I heard the door open. I heard more footsteps get into the room. "Alright, Wendy, just let me check something." I heard a drawer open. I really hope it was the drawer that I took the Stick from. My heart was beating from fear. If they find me I'm dead. I put my hands over my mouth so they don't hear me breathe. I heard whispering for a minute or so. Then footsteps getting softer. Then I heard the door closed. Then more footsteps, descending in tone.

I exhaled. Good. They won't get me today. I opened the closet door...only to find Stan and Wendy still in the bedroom. Four red, bulged eyes of hate glared me down, but neither of them were armed. Both Stan and Wendy charged at me. I screamed, panicked, stuck both my hands out, and furious winds were discharged from my hands, and the next thing I knew, Stan and Wendy were both caught in it and were knocked back, their bodies banging against the wall. I booked it. I tried to run, I went to the door but it was locked! Damn bastards, locking the door to slow me down. I unlocked the bedroom door, and tried to open it and tried to run, but a flash of light blinded me briefly.

"Augh!"

When my vision restored, I felt two cold hands around my neck. I gagged. It was Wendy's, I tried to pull her hands off, but I underestimated how strong she is. She gripped my neck harder, and I was hacking, struggling to make a sound.

"Alright Wendy, let him go, don't kill him, we don't want to be charged for murder." Stan said.

I was thrown against a wall and landed in Stan's bed. My neck was sore. My vision blurred again, and I felt a smack to my face. "Alright, give me the Stick!" Stan yelled.

"Did Cartman send this druid?" Wendy asked.

"Probably, fatass is probably..." My vision came back to me, and Stan looked at me closely. "Wait a minute, it's that Cole kid."

"Yeah," Wendy replied, "he was never sided with Cartman if I recall."

I tried to heal the hurting sensation on my face, but Wendy punched me in the rib, interrupting me. I bent forward and gripped my ribs. "No more..."

"What the fuck are you doing here kid? Breaking into my bedroom? Give me the Stick!" Stan held his hands out.

"No!" I lept off of Stan's bed and the couple backed up a little. I struggled to stand. My left arm gripped my chest. "L-let me. Let me explain." They were silent this time, but they looked at me, expecting to explain my piece quickly, and that's what I intended to do. "Have you ever wondered why we have magical powers? Or powers that let us fight like badasses? I swear it's the Stick. I think the Stick has something to do with it."

Stan and Wendy looked at each other, then around. "Hey, yeah, you're right," Stan said, "all of a sudden, I feel like I'm just really good at swordfighting. This has happened when we started to play with the Stick today."

"Also, you know, ever since the new kid showed up to town," Wendy said, "I'm also getting powers, but I haven't figured out why. Who's the weird kid with the pink hair? Who is he again?"

"I don't know," Stan replied, "everyone just calls him 'Douchebag'."

"His name is Ray," I said, "and he's really skilled with his farts."

"Ew." Wendy's face contorted with disgust.

"Well the book I have here describes someone skilled at farts who will save us from the terrors of outer space," I replied.

"What kind of terrors?" Stan asked. "And do you think Ray has something to do with that?"

"I'm not sure," I replied, "but there's also something else: a demon who's hunting the Stick, and the only way for us to stop it is for us to get to North Park."

"How do we know this is true, and not some stupid fairy tale?" Wendy asked. "There can be other explanations for us suddenly getting cool tricks and powers. Let me see the book."

Before I could get the book out, I heard a sudden explosion, crash, and lots of material breaking. The ground shook and shuddered and I fell to the ground. As I picked myself up, I saw Stan and Wendy at the bed peering out the window. I came up behind them to see what they were looking at. But there was nothing but dark hills of snow. "Maybe it's the North side of town," Stan said. "Let's get to my sister's bedroom."

We went out the bedroom and directly across the hall and opened the door, turning on the lights. It had a pink carpet and white walls. We went over to the window far in the back, and sure enough, in the distance, slightly west of north was a crashed steel, circular ship with bright lights of many colors. It was located where the South Park Mall once stood. It was a huge fireball. There were sirens in the distance, so the Fire Departman was already on its way to respond. "Oh my God," Wendy said.

"Isn't that - isn't that one of the Visitor ships?" Stan said. "Remember back in 3rd grade when Eric Cartman got an anal probe?"

"Yeah," Wendy replied. "This looks familiar." The two of them turned to me. "Cole, was this what you were talking about?"

I looked at my feet. There was no way this could be happening. I was half hoping this was just some legend. This could be it. It begins. "I...um...maybe...uhh..."

Shit.


Here's some things you should know about me: I don't mind reading romance fluff, I just don't like writing it, and I don't think I'm particularly good at writing it, so I found this chapter particularly difficult to write. That being said, I know that romance isn't always about fluff, and I'm going to find ways to incorporate Stendy into this story without so much fluff in the future. With the way I wrote my storyboard, I knew this was inevitably going to happen.

Alot of the Stendy dialogue is based on what I've observed throughout Season 18. I felt like there were some disagreements in what Stan and Wendy wanted, and it seemed like they were separating again.

This is a confusing timeline, but I will explain the process once I end this story. Also, Cole's thoughts about things (particularly about other canon characters) don't necessarily reflect my own. Except for Wendy shooting a substitute teacher in the sun. That's just fucked up.